I grew up very lonely. A small town setting filled with big dreams and crushing truths, it wasn't ideal. My family was not what I would address as kind, though they were protective and strong. We persevered, though we sacrificed much of our mental health to grow in spite of the humble beginnings. I knew not much of happiness, but much of loyalty and hardy souls that would do anything to keep me safe.
When I was fourteen, I began to realize I had not yet had a crush on anyone. I began to realize that all of the other girls were hanging out with boys, walking through the hallways with strong arms wrapped around their stomachs. They smiled so wide, laughed so loudly, fell so hard, that I began to yearn for that sort of attraction. I began to yearn for that sort of relationship. Though I then had a strong friend group, I felt something missing, I felt a little bit empty. It was the first year someone called me a prude.
When I was fifteen, I had my first boyfriend. It was less out of a feeling of love, and more out of a feeling of pressure, of insecurity. I hadn't kissed anyone, I hadn't held hands with anyone, I never had my late-night, 3 hour long phone calls with someone I could call mine. I realize now that I was looking more for someone to reassure me of myself, to prop up my pretentious self-worth. I now realize that when I kissed him, and felt nothing at all, that I should have let go of the false hopes of one day breaking my self for the sake of another person.
When I was sixteen, I became "legal" in my home state. My eyes trailed upon the hickeys, dark sunset bruises, upon my friend's neck. They would brag about their make-out sessions, they would laugh at how it made me uncomfortable. People continued to call me a prude, told me that I was "wasting" my pretty face. I not only felt no desire to do "it", I also felt no attraction, and feared that I was broken.
When I got my driver's license, I used it to go to my therapist, instead of my boyfriend's house. She suggested that I have my hormones checked, and so I did. The tests came back completely normal, and I should have been relieved. Instead of relief, I felt panic, because it meant that I truly was different. I truly was a prude. I truly was broken. It was the first time I had ever wanted to die.
When I was ending my sophomore year, my best friend introduced me to aromanticism and asexuality. I stopped in my tracks when I found that what I was and what I feeling was a legitimate thing. It was a thing, but not only was it a thing, it was a thing that other people felt too. I spent the rest of my junior year rebuilding myself, changing my outlook on my future. I no longer feared having to marry a person I could never reciprocate feelings from, I no longer feared doing "it". I lost my fear, and instead replaced it with pride. I no longer hated myself for something that I could not change.
And now I live, approaching seventeen, with a positive energy that I cannot explain in any other terms than wholeness. I do not need another person to be my other half, because I am not a half. I am a whole person, and I am not an emotionless, or cold, prude. I am a constant exothermic reaction of energy and self-love that I have only developed out of years of expelling the cold that I once felt. I am consistently happy, and at ease with myself, for the first time since I became a teenager.
I should have learned from my family that I am allowed to love myself. Now, when my grandparents ask me about dates, I tell them honestly that it will not happen. Now, when I see my friends get together and break up and get together with other people, I feel reassured that I will still hold on to them, because the platonic relationships that I have built are hardy and life-lasting. I no longer want to die.
I should have known, since the time I was old enough to understand sentences, that my family was right. Relationships built on loyalty and love do not have to be romantic, they do not have to be sexual. I am loyal to myself, and will no longer cheat myself out of my self-love. I live in a world built on romance, so smothered in the ideal of finding "the one" that I sometimes still wish I could change.
But then I remember.
I was fourteen, the first day someone had yelled at me at school, teased me, slapped me, and laughed. She came into my room later that day, and after we had both mutually assured me that I was alright, she took my head into her cracked, dry hands, and bore her eyes into my own.
"Don't let them determine who you are. Don't change yourself for people that don't even like you. They're not worth explanations and they're not worth your time. you're going to do big things without them, and later neither of you will even care about each other."
I hold those words close to my chest when I feel like breaking down, when I feel like trying again to break my "curse". I should have known from that day on, when i cried in my mother's arms, that I was good enough for myself. I have come to separate being alone from being lonely. I have come to separate relationships from love. I have come to separate my self-worth from the worth others have allowed me. I have allowed myself this much.
I have learned that I will be who I am, and that I cannot change it. I have learned, now, that I wouldn't change it even if I could. I have learned that there is nothing broken, or missing, from my life.
I have learned to love myself,
and I understand and love myself more than anyone else ever could.
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